Min Jeong-hui walked around with her head held high. The people of Jisang were beneath her, and they should feel fortunate that she even decided to grace them with her presence. Though, it was clear that the only people paying attention to her were the children snickering in the corner. They had the clothes of the lower class, patchwork cloth haphazardly sewn together. Jeong-hui looked down at her own attire. Proper business wear, created with a single, expensive fabric. She glared at the children as she walked by, and their snickering abruptly ceased.
She couldn’t help but smirk as she eventually made her way to her final destination.
Standing before one of the many shrines around Jisang, Jeong-hui closed her eyes then she kneeled and pretended to pray.
Though she felt no faith, she tried to find time in her busy schedule to come down to the lower floors and give off the appearance that she did. It was a business strategy of course. All she thought about was business. If the people of Jisang were to believe the lies she and Mantra were telling, they might be convinced if they saw her actively participating in said lies.
Eomoni was a deity created by years of religious blending and a little help from the Mantra Corporation. She was no more real than Jeong-hui’s nose.
But, when it came to the citizens of Jisang’s money, Eomoni definitely not a product of corporate greed.
Jeong-hui kneeled and pretended to pray until her knees started to feel sore. And once she was finished, she shakily stood up, wiped away a tear, and tried to collect herself. To anyone who didn’t know her, she would appear to be deeply devout.
As she looked around the large space, she could see some people staring at her. Some with disinterest, but most with joy. Whenever she was recognized by someone, they would always thank her for all that she’s done. She nodded politely to those watching, and then turned to leave.
The short walk back to the elevators was usually frustrating. People always tried to come talk to her and she constantly had to brush them aside. It wasn’t that she didn’t have time to speak to them, she just didn’t want to associate with the poor.
A man, nearly here height, but she was in platform heels, bumped into her without apologizing. Jeong-hui wanted to shout at him, but she knew that wouldn’t do well for the company’s image. As she turned around, however, she was startled once more when she came face to face with one of those hideous masks. The individual who wore the mask had decorated it with blue lights and intricate pink designs. A part of her could appreciate the craft involved, but she couldn’t stand the hideousness of the rest of the mask. Masks were just another reminder of how she couldn’t control everything. People wore masks because of her company’s lies, which she loved, but she couldn’t prevent people for decorating or modifying their masks. Almost like they enjoyed wearing them. People liked their masks, and she hated when people liked things because it made them too happy, too comfortable. That’s not how her father envisioned Jisang, and that’s not how she did either.
People are supposed to be subjugated not creative.
She hurried past the person in the brightly colored mask, and then ran nearly straight into a crowd of people. Her curiousity got the best of her so she looked over to see what the commotion was all about. Perhaps someone had died? Or maybe another poor person had collapsed from starvation?
Her heart sank when she realized the crowd was for the tiny shop, Juice. She knew it well. And she’d never forget how, at some people’s insistence, she wasted her money for some cheap toy giraffe. The minute she’d gotten home that day she’d torn the giraffe apart and thrown it out her window. Juice was a waste of money and a waste of time.
Though, now that she thought about it, the people probably spent an absurd amount of money on the machine, trying to get something interesting. Perhaps she could use that technique to get people to—
The crowd started breaking up, and a herd of people bumped passed her. Jeong-hui took one look at a woman’s green gas mask. Angry flared up inside her and she pushed past the retched crowd.
Once she was safely in the elevator, she felt immediately relaxed. Though, she wished she was alone. She recognized the man standing next to her, Jo Kyung-sook, and eyes him coldly.
In her past interactions with him, the man seemed friendly, though quite boring. She appreciated his work ethic, and how he dedicated himself to her company, but Kyung-sook was far from easy to talk to. He was always so awkward around people, likely due to constantly working and hardly ever leaving the office.
He greeted her with a stilted nod, and the pair spent the elevator ride in uncomfortable silence. As soon as the elevator came to a stop, Jeong-hui tore out of small space and hurried to her office, the clicking of her heels echoing through the Mantra office. She wanted to get to her private bathroom as soon as possible, hoping to scrub the filth of the lower floors off her skin. Luckily, she’d changed into a spare outfit so she wouldn’t have to wear the stench of the poor on her for the rest of the day.
Her job was a difficult one. Having to deal with all the lower class people nearly three times a week, it was exhausting.
She couldn’t help but smirk as she eventually made her way to her final destination.
Standing before one of the many shrines around Jisang, Jeong-hui closed her eyes then she kneeled and pretended to pray.
Though she felt no faith, she tried to find time in her busy schedule to come down to the lower floors and give off the appearance that she did. It was a business strategy of course. All she thought about was business. If the people of Jisang were to believe the lies she and Mantra were telling, they might be convinced if they saw her actively participating in said lies.
Eomoni was a deity created by years of religious blending and a little help from the Mantra Corporation. She was no more real than Jeong-hui’s nose.
But, when it came to the citizens of Jisang’s money, Eomoni definitely not a product of corporate greed.
Jeong-hui kneeled and pretended to pray until her knees started to feel sore. And once she was finished, she shakily stood up, wiped away a tear, and tried to collect herself. To anyone who didn’t know her, she would appear to be deeply devout.
As she looked around the large space, she could see some people staring at her. Some with disinterest, but most with joy. Whenever she was recognized by someone, they would always thank her for all that she’s done. She nodded politely to those watching, and then turned to leave.
The short walk back to the elevators was usually frustrating. People always tried to come talk to her and she constantly had to brush them aside. It wasn’t that she didn’t have time to speak to them, she just didn’t want to associate with the poor.
A man, nearly here height, but she was in platform heels, bumped into her without apologizing. Jeong-hui wanted to shout at him, but she knew that wouldn’t do well for the company’s image. As she turned around, however, she was startled once more when she came face to face with one of those hideous masks. The individual who wore the mask had decorated it with blue lights and intricate pink designs. A part of her could appreciate the craft involved, but she couldn’t stand the hideousness of the rest of the mask. Masks were just another reminder of how she couldn’t control everything. People wore masks because of her company’s lies, which she loved, but she couldn’t prevent people for decorating or modifying their masks. Almost like they enjoyed wearing them. People liked their masks, and she hated when people liked things because it made them too happy, too comfortable. That’s not how her father envisioned Jisang, and that’s not how she did either.
People are supposed to be subjugated not creative.
She hurried past the person in the brightly colored mask, and then ran nearly straight into a crowd of people. Her curiousity got the best of her so she looked over to see what the commotion was all about. Perhaps someone had died? Or maybe another poor person had collapsed from starvation?
Her heart sank when she realized the crowd was for the tiny shop, Juice. She knew it well. And she’d never forget how, at some people’s insistence, she wasted her money for some cheap toy giraffe. The minute she’d gotten home that day she’d torn the giraffe apart and thrown it out her window. Juice was a waste of money and a waste of time.
Though, now that she thought about it, the people probably spent an absurd amount of money on the machine, trying to get something interesting. Perhaps she could use that technique to get people to—
The crowd started breaking up, and a herd of people bumped passed her. Jeong-hui took one look at a woman’s green gas mask. Angry flared up inside her and she pushed past the retched crowd.
Once she was safely in the elevator, she felt immediately relaxed. Though, she wished she was alone. She recognized the man standing next to her, Jo Kyung-sook, and eyes him coldly.
In her past interactions with him, the man seemed friendly, though quite boring. She appreciated his work ethic, and how he dedicated himself to her company, but Kyung-sook was far from easy to talk to. He was always so awkward around people, likely due to constantly working and hardly ever leaving the office.
He greeted her with a stilted nod, and the pair spent the elevator ride in uncomfortable silence. As soon as the elevator came to a stop, Jeong-hui tore out of small space and hurried to her office, the clicking of her heels echoing through the Mantra office. She wanted to get to her private bathroom as soon as possible, hoping to scrub the filth of the lower floors off her skin. Luckily, she’d changed into a spare outfit so she wouldn’t have to wear the stench of the poor on her for the rest of the day.
Her job was a difficult one. Having to deal with all the lower class people nearly three times a week, it was exhausting.